Liverpool FC Forum

[Festy]

I'll use this thread to find quality posts in our forum and post here, so eveyone can enjoy reading them and can learn something.
So to begin with here is a post, posted by 'Red Soul' in 'LIVERPOOL vs CHELSEA' thread: - Read and enjoy.

P.S. - I request all the members to keep this thread clean with only relevant posts.

"Lady Luck bumped into us on some rundown Cockney street today and stole our watch, our wallets, and three points.

First off, I thought we pretty much battered the gimps over the 90 minutes. People think our forward play is uninventive and lacks ideas - take a look at Chelsea, where an attack usually means hoofing the ball to Dogbreath, who will then squat over it and start flexing his shoulders like Hulk Hogan posing for his fans, until he manages to push the ball into the path of Fat Frank, who's steaming towards the box at roughly the speed and weight of a buffalo stampede. It invariably bounces off his chubby shins at high speed, and then all it needs is a technically perfect course correction from a defender's buttocks and it somehow comes to rest in the net.

At around 70 minutes Robben comes on, they hoof the ball up to him and stand round politely applauding when he performs a stunt from his favourite episode of Jackass should any red-shirted player in his half of the pitch make the mistake of sneezing in his general direction. Fat Frank wheezes up to take the free kick, still recovering from his earlier bout of running, and spazzes the ball into the blue yonder, unless of course he manages to hit one of the defenders in that sweet spot between the cheeks which carries it over the goal-line. Shevchenko ponders the meaning of life, does several Sudoko puzzles, wonders why Chelsea bought him, and wanders off the sidelines to play pattycake with Tiger Woods.

Do you know how close we were to winning this match?

*holds fingers about three inches apart*

This close.

If Kuyt's thunderbolt had been an inch lower, it would have spanged off the underside of the crossbar and be lying in an impact crater a foot or so behind the goal-line. They'd probably still be digging it out now, and pointing Geiger counters at it.

If Gerrard's healthy smack had gone an inch or so to the right, it would have flown past Cech like Superman with diarrhoea. He could have pulled as many Howard the Duck Quack-Fu flapping moves as he wanted, he wouldn't have kept that bad boy out.

If the ball had been an inch or so lower when Kuyt took a meaty swing at the damn thing after it squirted out of the penalty box, we'd have had three goals and Cech would be minus one head. Kuyt would have stuck his fingers in the blood jetting from the stump, and incorporated some impromptu LFC warpaint into his goal celebration.

Three frigging inches.

Our boys did good today. I don't think a single one of them looked out of sorts today, and I like the way Sissoko looks at a Chelsea player with the ball as if they just molested his dog. God knows what sort of training regime he's on, although I'd guess that it involves tying him to a stake in the middle of a field and not feeding him. Perhaps they get Academy youngsters to dress in the shirt of the next team we're going to face, and they eat cheeseburgers just out of his reach. They probably lob half-bricks at him too, just to really him off.

Alonso looked better than he has done, although his distribution wasn't quite the masterclass he usually treats us to, it was in no way bad and he performed his defensive duties superbly.

Pennant looked good, always managing to find space on that right wing, and providing a good outlet on the few occasions we were really under the cosh. He's also got an excellent first touch, and I think in this match he sprayed in roughly four times the amount of crosses we had for the whole of last season - I'll have to check Carling Opta for confirmation.

Stevie showed us what we already knew - that he can play just about anywhere on the damned pitch and do a very good job. Not as good a job as he can do in central midfield, granted, but still an excellent player no matter where you stick the man.

Defence looked solid today, with Agger especially looking hotter than Satan's ballbag. Central defence is one of the hardest positions a youngster can come into, as a lot of the game there is based upon positioning and experience, but somehow 21-year-old Dagger has strolled into the position and quietly growled to the Premiership, "Put the word around, I fancy meself and I'll take the lot on yers". Blinding. Finnan was just Finnan, which is good, Warnock looked a bit shaky against Doggy early on but seemed to have mostly got a handle on him as the match went on. Aurelio came on for him, and I thought he had a decent game - one inch-perfect sliding tackle in the penalty box comes to mind.

Kuyt and Bellamy look pretty damn good together, don't they? Kuyt worked hard as seems to be his trademark (rumour has it that his training sessions involve him being loaned to farmers to plough their fields) and Bellamy cracks me up, the angry little goblin. Once he starts getting a feel for offside traps, and Kuyt starts to get an understanding of where he's running so he can slip him an early ball, we're going to start seeing mucho goals from these two. They're not scoring freely yet, but it's the first few dates for these two. Gives them time to get to know each other, snuggle up in front of the fire, perhaps hold hands a little. You don't want to rush it, because you want it to be special. Don't worry folks, a few more games and we'll be seeing these two going fast 'n' nasty on the pitch.

And finally, Ballack should have been sent off. He's German, but not a cool German like our beloved Didi who smokes loads of tabs and wins us Champions League cups. He's one of those horrible ones you see on Eurotrash, dressed in a nappy and getting spanked with a wooden spoon by a former Czechoslovakian teeny-pop star. He just had a swift flashback, and he didn't see Momo outstretched on the ground, he saw a pasty 20-stone dominatrix with greasy hair demanding that he trample her thighs with his sexy studs.


Pervert.

And it was a good goal by Dogboy. So good in fact, that I'm going over to his house at about 2am when he's asleep, just so I can drape my naked, sweaty balls across his forehead.

[Festy]

Here is another quality post. (by 'red 37' in LIVERPOOL vs CHELSEA) thread.

i thought the defence at least looked solid today. its little point in calling JC or Reina for the goal...it was just a sublime strike, nothing more could have been done. (if there can be any criticism of it, that can only be that carragher was a bit outmuscled too easily as the cross came in). apart from that, both he and daniel agger had the two chelsea forwards in their pockets most of the game.

fwiw reina was hardly put through the grinder either...

the problem obviously lies in creative attack and the execution of the two or three chances you can reasonably expect to earn during a game at this level.

it isnt made any easier by the capacity of our best player being wasted by having to compensate for all and sundry in nigh on every position across the park, in order for anything to materialise...gerrards versitility is possibly his weakest asset in some bizarre way.

for me he must play central  -AGAINST QUALITY OPPOSITION-  of course, by all means use him tactically to create/negate the opposition in other areas if necessary...but have him do it where he actually hurts them, not aids their cause. there is enough 'muscle' if you like behind stevie to allow him the freedom to roam and cause havoc supporting the attack from deep. not from the flanks. (the likes of zenden cannot do this the same for my money).

that isnt to say he cant do it, we know he can. but there are so many facets of his game being sacrificed for the ineptitude of other components of the team needing a helping hand.

that brings into focus the wide areas. the supply simply isnt good enough. yes there maybe numerous being crosses swung in, at least a damn sight more than last term. but they either 'bounce' off crouchy's head, or worse yet, fail to clear the first man. pennant is great at controlling a moving ball and bombing on. but time after time he fails decisively to go round the marker, opting instead to either cut inside then lose possession, or, launch the early bomb into no-mans land.

equally the feed from out left is sadly lacking. for all the industry from fabio aurelio, he doesnt half seem to have little end product. as for mark gonzalez you can only assume the rigours of top-flight premiership football are beyond his scope for the time being. which doesnt exactly come as a big surprise, bearing in mind the hype the poor lads received based on half a dozen good performances for RS. a lot of faces (including me) expected, or at least hoped he would be the improvement needed. he could still be. although for my money he'd be bringing quite a bit more to the table than the current options do. though whether gonzalez will get the chances at the moment, thats a different tale. lets hope he takes any that do come. (lets face it we've waited long enough for him)

but certainly from rafa's perspective these possibly are the reasons behind the 'shoe-horning' of gerrard, quite simply because the midfield seems capable enough of absorbing the skippers abscence to allow him to provide enough ammo from the width of the pitch. because, the occupants of those positions are, to put it politely...not having the best of times!

there lies the problem for me.  central midfield may well be able to operate without gerrard in it, defensively.  but for the time being, are having some difficulty in taking on the mantle a player like gerrard gives going the other way..offensively.

especially and partcularly against the stronger teams... he is just one less headache for them when deployed outside the mix.

fwiw i honestly think we could have salvaged something from the game had it not been for the switch. but you know what, i dont blame rafa...he can only spread his strengths so thin over a football pitch. if anything it highlights the gaffers courage. albeit not of his convictions, but of necessity.

in summary, this wasnt exactly a banker anyway. so losing, although a hard pill to swallow, isnt the end of the world.
neither is it the evaporation of our title hopes...yet.

but its clear that work must be done to link the midfield up better with the strikers. and that means steven gerrard in his most effective role.

plus points from the game: Agger/ JC  and the drive and energy of sissoko and gerrard. added to the enthusiasm and determination of kuyt and to a lesser degree bellamy (today, not so much of a threat)

and when you speak of those above, youve got yourself the spine of a team as strong as any out there.

for the others, well i thought alonso had a better game today than of late. finnan was his usual unfussed self, without straying too far from the comfort zone. and warnock fell foul of the yellow card courtesy of your friend and mine...

as for newcastle at home....the perfect opportunity to get this show well and truly off and running.

[Festy]

Nice analysis of our new boys by 'stmichael'. (In 'Analysis of the new boys' thread.)

Before anyone flies off the handle and accuses contributors to this thread of judging new players on only a handful of games, let me say that the purpose of this thread is to compare opinions now to those at the end of the season.

I'll dig out this thread in may and we can compare our opinions of the new players with our opinions now. Given that we've started the league campaign relatively poorly I expect big differences where some players are concerned.

As Paletta has yet to really feature we'll not include him.

Aurelio - Not impressed sofar. Doesn't look like a left back and doesn't look like a left midfielder. Seems to be one of those players who would fare better in a wing back system. His delivery of crosses hasn't particularly good and neither have his corners etc. Has looked defensively suspect on a number of occassions. Hasn't shown enough to suggest he's a better player for full back than Riise. To be fair he's adjusting to a much quicker league and does have the quality to succeed. At the start of the season he's the player I'd have most expected to struggle but to then find his feet and perform well. Let's hope he does so.

Kuyt - All the signs are good. Probably the best striker we've had at keeping hold of the ball for quite some time. Tremendously hard working, intelligent footballer. Yet to see him with a clear cut chance so I can't really judge his finishing. He unsettles defences and defends from the front. Very happy with this signing but only time will tell.

Gonzalez - Again a player we've not seen much of. Hasn't been as quick as I thought he would be and he's yet to really terrorise a full back. Did enough in the Haifa game at home in the last few minutes to suggest he's a goal threat and a good deliverer of crosses. I don't think he's the most skillfull in terms of beating a player with tricks etc, but more of a knock it past a defender and run type. Seems relatively direct in what he does. I think out of all the players brought in there has been the biggest anti climax over Gonzalez. Some seemed to expect him to come in and murder defenders as he did on youtube. It was never going to happen in a new league.

Pennant - Has looked a good signing so far. Good pace and a decent cross. I've been particularly impressed with his first touch on the ball. Able to take down a forty yard crossfield pass with a single touch and be off running with it at full pelt in seconds. Think he'll be a success here but he does seem reluctant to go out the outside of a fullback. I expected him to be doing that with the pace he has, but he has a tendency to come inside sometimes when the better options seems to go the other way.

Bellamy - Has done well so far. Very direct as we expected but won't be a twenty goal a season striker. Good link up play and all round game. Nice finish against Haifa. Another player that consistently worries defenders, another defend from the front type player. Yet to really see how good he is at taking his chances.

Thoughts?

[Festy]

Posted by 'Bigmick' in 'Here's an idea' thread.

My plan is quite a simple one really. Let's decide on what we think is our best team (or at least let Rafa decide) and then barring injury, lets play it in the next three or four games before we re-assess where we are. No more playing steven Gerrard on the left-wing (what on earth is all that about?) or playing a different front two every game, along with a different defensive four and a different formation.

Now before anybody goes off on one, I've been saying this since the pre-season and I'm not knee-jerking on the back of an admittedly quite decent performance at Chelsea. it really is time to stop meddling and faffing with the starting eleven. Tell the players that you are going to pick what you currently believe to be your strongest team, if they've got the shirt they are in posession and if they haven't, they'd better work their socks off in training/when they come on as sub to get a start in the next game.

To anybody who thinks I'm talking nonsense I offer two things. Firstly, I thought we played OK today DESPITE the fact that we played our best player woefully out of position and that the line-up had never played together before, not because of it. Secondly, it's customry in a difficult period to get the players together, have a no holds barred clear the air session where everybody gets their grievances off their chest. If Rafa was to do this tomorrow, what do you think the players would say? I reckon I know.

My last point is this. If we are to constantly refer to games being decided by the "smallest details", by "making no mistakes" and by "that extra couple of percent", how many percent does anybody feel is gained by players instinctively knowing where their teammates are going to be? That supernatural sense of where to lay it off, when to hold it to wait for your partner to arrive? Too often today Liverpools play was slick but just a couple of degrees off.

It's time. Lets stop fecking around and give ourselves a chance to find some rhythm.

[Festy]

Posted by 'Sabre' in the 'The tactics blackboard' thread.

When we talk in this board about tactics, many people say 442, 352, 541 and all that.

Well in Spanish we have a slightly different meaning of the word tactics. The above would be a "formation" and the tactics would be the different automatised movements that are trained in the training sessions and are put in practice in the games.

I'd like this thread to be about that. I consider I have a very basic knowledge about tactics, but I think that I can learn from many of you, that's why I write this post.

I'll start the thread by commenting two things I saw from Rafa's body language, and no it's not that he was unconfortable 

Xabi's long balls

At min 60 the camera focused on Rafa, who was yelling and making signs. He first made a curve with his hand as in "long ball or game orientation change". And then he put one finger of each hand upwards and swithed their position, from back to forward.

The super footie pundit of ITV said

"Well I think that he's asking Bellamy to start his runs from deeper positions and not to be square to Kuyt".

I don't think he meant that, because he yelled "Xabi, Xabi!" for starters. Then I read in his lips the "largo (long)" when made the curve with the hand. And then he said "Aqui, no aquí" that is "(do the long ball) Here, not here".

I think he meant that Xabi shouldn't do a long ball when he had his partner midfielder (Sissoko) behind him, but when he was in a deeper position than Sissoko, so that the midfielder that is onfront of him help the pass receiver and he (Alonso) covers the back just in case.

The fingers where like this
       X

Al. (this would be Alonso) --> Here!!

Al. Not here!!

-------X ---> 



I'm pretty sure about he was talking about the long balls (side to side), not sure about my interpretation, if any of you can watch again the game, or remember that please tell me.  He insisted on the position (here!, not here) twice.

Hope you understood the schema, because I'm pretty sure that I couldn't express well what I wanted to say in english

The "come" gesture

A gesture that Rafa does often is one that asks players to "come here". He does that when we are defending. When ever the oposition pass the ball horizontally or backwards. Rafa starts to say "come here" (sometimes really angry) so that we do not stay too deep and we leave the oposition forwards in off side. That's something LFC does regularly very well and a pleasure to watch.

-----

You may talk about this kind of tactics here. Things like zonal vs marking defending, how well was the defence coordinated, the threat that is caused to oposition when Gerrard initially on a wing swaps position with one od the midfielder, and things like that

I love it when someone that knows more footie than me comments some of this movements. Most of them are used often and when you realise that on the match you sometimes appreciate more the job some players do.

[Festy]

Posted by 'Johnymac1979' in 'Steven Gerrard's FA Cup Final Equalizer ' thread on 13th May 06.

New topic from jonnymac, only because I think it's worth it.

I watched the game at home with my Dad this afternoon, a bit of a tradition in my family, close the curtains over and crack open a six-pack.  Don't really go the pub for the FA Cup final.  Prefer to watch it indoors rather than a pub, no matter what year it is, or who's playing.  Wimbledon in 1988 was one of the exceptions as I was actually sitting in a seat in Wembley Stadium watching us get beat.  Never mind, although eighteen years on I still don't know how we lost.

Also, back in 2001, I was on a 36 hour drink binge, although I wont explain the ins and outs of that.  It was justified though.  We won the Cup.  Any other year, apart from when I had a stupid Saturday job that robbed me of watching it, I always watch the FA Cup final at home.  Couldn't get a ticket this year though.  My brother was there though.  He's ecstatic.

So anyway, today, Konchesky had scored a winning freak goal and for twenty minutes or so, West Ham's name was on the Cup.  I was sitting with my Dad in the house and if I'm being honest, we had both conceded the Cup.  Kewell had to go off injured; Alonso realised his ankle had not healed sufficiently enough to allow him to have any more influence on the game, and players were falling over all over the pitch.  Weird weren't it?

The much maligned Morientes (who I thought in my opinion looked more lively today than he had looked all season put together) was leading the line once Crouch was replaced.  We looked a team who didn't have what it was going to take this time to take the trophy.  Cisse had given his all, he couldn't even run any more.

Those of us who were watching on television, were watching with four minutes to go.  The camera cut to Steven Gerrard, with the look of regret on his face, about the trophy that got away.  He had cramp.  He couldn't walk properly, never mind run.  Reo-Coker was man-marking him, and West Ham looked far the fitter side over the ninety minutes.  The game was up. 

The commentators, Motson and Lawrenson from BBC, were worrying about England's World Cup hopes.  the World Cup.  I was worrying about how I was going to cope with losing the FA Cup.

Then the ninety minutes were up and the fourth official signalled there was four minutes of injury time and Liverpool were on the attack after some Cisse injury where the ball was kicked out of play.  I had this empty feeling in my stomach, resigned to planning how I was going to take my mind off this result after the referee had blown his whistle to signal the defeat.  It was only a matter of time.

Then there is some kind of perfect mêlée, where the ball bounces free just outside the box.  Close your eyes and you can remember where you were when you seen it yourself.  The ball was free.  On television you couldn't see the rest of the pitch, so I know what I was thinking.  If you were at Cardiff, I'll bet I know what you were thinking.

You thought to yourself;

"Last minute of the Cup Final, the ball has been missed by all the players at the edge of the box.......... and it's bouncing up perfectly for someone to hit it, 35 yards out.......... 

Who do you want there to hit it, even though it won't go in, barring a miracle or a perfect shot sent from somewhere we don't know about?"

"But who do you want there?  Name the ONE player you want there just out of camera-shot.  The one player in the World you would trust right now to volley that ball towards goal?"

Step forward Steven Gerrard.

Am I the only person who watched it in sheer disbelief and slow motion?  Even when it hit the corner of the net, for a brief moment, a real brief moment, I couldn't believe this final could take another twist this way.  With warriors falling all over the pitch, the greatest and strongest of them all on the park rose and pulled a rabbit out of the hat, and produced a goal which you'll travel far and wide to see executed more perfectly, in a game of such importance and magnitude. 

Carrying an injury, Steven Gerrard shaped his body, catching it on the volley like an arrow with a twist.  With his last ounce of energy in the ninety minutes, he scored an unstoppable beauty before Hislop even realised there was a shot to save.  The ball was literally in the net before he'd finished saving it.  Revise all goal of the season awards.

The man is a living legend.  I am 26 years of age, so I don't recall the old school of dominating football domestically and Europe, year in, year out.  I know my history, but my memory only goes back as far as the Double season of 1986.  From there, I know my stuff like Gospel.  We were good for about five years in my youth, and then we had the nineties.

So I have to say, in the time since, Gerrard can be mentioned in the same breath as Kenny Dalglish and John Barnes.  The man can go onto eclipse them if he continues performing at his rate.

Different generations apart I know, but I can't get over how Gerrard scored that goal today.  The technique was just perfection.  Just when you think you've seen him at his best against Olympiakos, or in Istanbul, or scoring 30 yard goals against Arsenal, Manchester United or even Aston Villa last weekend, he goes and scores an incomparable goal in the last minute of the FA Cup final, before going on to score a goal in the penalty shoot out to decide the competition before lifting the Cup himself.

The man was born with a gift.

Up there with the best.

So the rest of this topic; what did you think when you watched the goal go in?  Where were you?  At home, in the pub, or in the Millennium Stadium?  How did you feel?  Did you feel you had seen a better goal this or any season?  Could you describe what you had just seen?

[adamnbarrett]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

[GOAT]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

So people can find the best posts without having to scroll through all the sh.ite i guess, good if you want a decent read

[adamnbarrett]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

So people can find the best posts without having to scroll through all the sh.ite

yeah I guess so but I've already read all of the posts that have been posted up. I know others probably haven't but it seems quite pointless to me.

But then again who am I to judge what people post 

[Judge]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

So people can find the best posts without having to scroll through all the sh.ite

yeah I guess so but I've already read all of the posts that have been posted up. I know others probably haven't but it seems quite pointless to me.

But then again who am I to judge what people post 

thats my job adam

[adamnbarrett]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

So people can find the best posts without having to scroll through all the sh.ite

yeah I guess so but I've already read all of the posts that have been posted up. I know others probably haven't but it seems quite pointless to me.

But then again who am I to judge what people post 

thats my job adam

well I was going to put, who I am to judge but then I thought people would twist it so I decided not to 

[Festy]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

You are not the only one who reads and posts in this forum. There are more than 5000 registered members on this forum and everyday some new user register on this forum so I thought it would be nice if they know the level of posting on this forum.

By the way this thread is at least better than those rubbish match threads, which contain little or no quality posts.

P.S. - If any of the mod feels this thread is pointless they can happily delete this thread and if they feel this is a thread which makes some sense then I request them to delete all the irrelevant posts from this thread.

I again request everyone to keep this thread clean. I won't mind if someone find some good posts to be contributed to this thread but no spamming please.

Thank you,
Festy.

[Festy]

But then again who am I to judge what people post 

and btw, I'm not being judge or something. I select the posts which are liked by other peoples too.

[adamnbarrett]

What's the point of maing a topic full of other people's posts that we are all capableof finding ourselves when we post in the threads in question?

You are not the only one who reads and posts in this forum. There are more than 5000 registered members on this forum and everyday some new user register on this forum so I thought it would be nice if they know the level of posting on this forum.

By the way this thread is at least better than those rubbish match threads, which contain little or no quality posts.

P.S. - If any of the mod feels this thread is pointless they can happily delete this thread and if they feel this is a thread which makes some sense then I request them to delete all the irrelevant posts from this thread.

I again request everyone to keep this thread clean. I won't mind if someone find some good posts to be contributed to this thread but no spamming please.

Thank you,
Festy.

I personally have no problem with this thread but back in the day when I was a newbie I did a thread more or less exactly like this and it was disgarded by everyone who read it with comments similar to what I put.

1 rule for one, 1 rule for another some may call it.

Feel free to keep posting it. It is a good idea but as explained above I have my reasons for questioning the thread.

[Dundalk]

The best post ever on this site....

The trip started with an alarm call at 4am.  Then a text to the boys, Murf, Jay and Dean before a quick shower and then stuff in the car off to pick the boys up. First stop is Murfs, then Dean’s on Southport Road before heading into Wavertree and picking Jay up. We then sped along the M62 and onto the M6 in an attempt to locate the park and drive where we booked in to leave the car.

First problem comes when "Navigator" Dean decided this would be a good time to forget how to read a map and directions so we spent 30 mins up and down roads in Manchester trying to find the car park. Lo and behold, we make our way back to the first road we looked down and this is the right one! That sod fella has a lot to answer for with these laws he invented.

Onto the mini bus, at around 6.15 am and its Stella’s all round for the boys. Murf starts the trip as he means to go on by dropping his guts and the mini bus is smogged up. We arrived at the airport at about 6.50am and headed straight to the T1 check in area. We joined what we thought was the right queue and waited for fifteen minutes until a commotion kicked up by some other scouser alerted us to the fact that Sporting Options had decided to change where we checked in to T2 without telling anyone.

A few swear words later and we headed to “the station” to check in. Huge queues and we joined the back! An hour later and we neared the front of the queue. This was the cue for Dean and Jay to move into another queue. Sod and his bloodly laws came into play again when we moved into an adjacent and seemingly quicker moving queue. We watched in dismay as the queue we left went quicker than buffet in a weight watchers convention. We did however persevere and waited, and waited and waited. Fifteen minutes later and we got to the front of the queue where Danny Le Rue proceeded to check us in whilst doing his best impression of Graham Norton!! “ I may have to have you boys upstairs” was a chilling thought, but turned out to be a great move.

We got on the plane and made our way upstairs into business class, loads of room and three seats for Leon to spread out on. Unfortunatly, some idiot downstairs did not intend for us to make it to Istanbul, and proceeded to smoke in the toilets on three separate occasions. 2 whole hours later and we where ready for the off, not before hearing stories of fighting and police on the other flight scheduled to take off around the same time as us. As usual, food was OK, lager was warm and expensive and the banter was great.

Just 3 hours and forty minutes later and we where readying for touchdown at Ataturk airport Istanbul. We got off the plane and where greeted by what my nan, (god rest her soul) would describe as close and muggy weather. Hot, but overcast and the fresh air seemed in short supply. Seventy odd piled onto the 50 seater bus and we ambled towards the terminal. The phone went back on and beeped for ten minutes solid with messages from fellow reds just embarking on the journey or wanting to know where we could meet up. Game on….

We got to the passport control, and the stories of ten-pound notes and photocopied passports seemed lost on most people. The strange version of you’ll never walk alone barely audible over the tannoy system was an indication of the warm hospitality that lay ahead. Some gave photocopies, some never, did not hear of anyone having to pay the ayrton senna either. Match tickets where also not requested, and the strict checking of documents, tickets and passports we had been told of never really materialised. Then out into the chaos of trying to find a coach to get you to the hotel. We checked the names at the front of the coaches, but no sign of the Konak hotel we where destined to stay in. The decision was then made to get a taxi to the hotel, so we walked up to find one. We avoided the dodgy looking yellow cabs that looked like they had come from a New York scrap yard and opted for a new looking VW Passatt.

Turkish driving and roads have few rules from what I can gather, to summarise:

1) All drivers must smoke at least 1 cigarette per two mile trip. Our taxi driver going the game managed to smoke two 20 boxes of fags in a forty minute trip, but more of that later….
2) A tune that goes something like “Ali Alaaaay, Hali Ali” must be played full whack throughout the journey. Top tune by the way, and if anyone knows what its called and how to get it let me know.
3) You must drive as fast as you can in the outside lane as close to the bumper of the driver in front whilst frantically flashing your headlights.
4) The car horn must be sounded at least every thirty seconds, and the more cars around you the more frequent the horn tooting should become.
5) In the event of a crash, you must immediately exit the vehicle and argue with the driver of the other vehicle. Whomsoever is the loser of the argument is at fault for the crash. Do not however exchange details, simply drive off sounding your horn in disproval.

The fact that people try to sell everything from bottled water to pretzels and from chewing gum to cigarettes in the middle of bust motorway lanes just adds to the sense of being on another planet.

Anyway back to the story, and we could not get the driver to understand “Konak” hotel, so told him (as we where reliably informed by the hotel) that it was close to the Hilton hotel. He knew instantly where this was so sped off at countless miles per hour on the journey. After around an hour, we got to the Hilton and tried to ask a valet for the location of the Konak Hotel. He did not know, but still insisted on sticking his head into the car through the window, and, displaying his hairy teeth, gave me a face full of heavy breathing so that I understood what the breath of one thousand camels smelt like.


Dean and Jay outside the Konak Hotel

We eventually found the hotel, and went to check in. I decided I needed to take a seat and grab a fag, so I sat down and asked the bell boy if I could smoke here. “This is Turkey my friend, you can smoke everywhere” came the reply, and how true he was. People smoked in McDonalds, Pizza hut in fact everywhere! We got into the lift, which was small, with our bags and pressed the button for our floor. The lift then decided it did not fancy the journey so stopped and turned the lights out. The initial humour of the situation was lost amidst Jamie threatening to kick the doors in as he felt uncomfortable with his “Classtraphobia” as he called it. For what seemed like ten minutes we shouted for help, then I decided to try the handle, which opened instantly in strict accordance to the laws of sod. Typical! We piled out embarrassed and red faced so we took the stairs.

The rooms where excellent, so we put the flag out the window and wanted to go exploring. If we where coming to Istanbul, we had to take in some of the sights, soak up the culture and appreciate the locals right? Wrong! We walked up the road about half a mile and back down the road before deciding to go the offy and get some cans. We then approached the local boys in blue to enquire as to the location of “Taksim Square”, the hallowed meeting point for all things Red. The response from the plod was typical of the pathetic prejudice Liverpool fans have tried to shake off for twenty odd years. “Hooligan Hooligan” the policeman shouted and pointed towards us before laughing their tits off and walking way from us. We would show them though why we are the greatest supporters in the World before the trip was over.

We decided to get something to eat, what would we go for ? A Kebab ? Maybe a Turkish restaurant ? No, we found a Chinese restaurant and made a beeline for it. We sat down and looked through the menu, all looked nice, but the prices had all been changed, crossed out with a pencil and almost doubled. This was a sign of the times; we later found that everywhere we went they actively increased the price for tourists as opposed to the price Turks paid. We ordered soups, prawn crackers, meals and chips, or so we thought! Anyway we got our drinks and looked forward to the meal when a group of Reds where exiting the restaurant, and offered us some advice “Its in here lads, and a rip off”.

They where right as well. The soups came over and looked lovely, but that was a mere illusion. Bland was not in it, and then came the icing on the cake, the guy brought out a plate of Frisps and said here are your chips! We decided to cut our losses and leave, so asked for the bill, the waiter said our meals where ready, but after much persuasion, he brought us the bill. 100Lira ! That’s roughly £50 for four soups, two beers and a coke. We paid and left, straight to the Pizza hut and all you can eat buffets for 8Lira (£4). Then we went home to get a quick shower before hitting Taksim square.

Taksim was booming, and we took our place right by the Irregulars flag opposite McDonalds. Tree boy (video to follow) hung in a tree drinking beer and singing songs for almost twelve hours solid. No mean feat. “Luis Garcia, he drinks Sangria…” that was the song that sticks in the mind from the trip, it was getting bellowed all over. TV crews captured signing, dancing, drinking and singing and drinking and singing. To say we had a buzz would be the understatement of the year. Loads of friendly faces, and loads of the boys showed up at various points through the night. The locals seemed in awe of us, and who could blame them. We painted Taksim red big time, and contrary to the police from earlier, we behaved impeccably, made a bit of a mess with the empties, but we at least piled them in the same place.

When tree boy finally came down, at around 3am, we watched as a few others climbed the tree to chorus of “Are you tree boy in disguise?” And we laughed as one fell from the top of the tree, the fool. We decided to take a look round and happened upon another gathering of the mighty red army at a crossroads. We found a group of Beskitas fans, and joined them singing and dancing. Again videos will follow later, but we had a great big crowd around as we sang Beskitas songs, followed by Liverpool ones and alternated the songs all night. Four scousers as newts in the middle of around fifty Beskitas loons, and we had a ball. It all went a little nasty when a gang of Fenerbache fans moved over, and one of the Beskitas fans, known only to us as “older man” offered us the opportunity to join them for a “boom boom boom” as he called it. He pulled a twelve-inch blade and gestured that we should join them in bashing the Fenerbache boys. We politely declined and took our leave before the police moved in.

Back to the hotel at around 4.30am and done in, we went to bed, only to be rudely awoken at 5.30am in the morning by some hole on a megaphone shouting all kinds of gibberish in Turkish. We later found out that this was in fact calling people to pray at the countless mosques in and around Istanbul.

The day of the game we decided to take in the sights a little and ventured as far as the shops. We bartered our way through most of the day and came away with no end of rubbish, and a Liverpool flag. On the way back we noticed a protest going on, you know the sort loads of people with banners and stuff. A perfect photo opportunity, so I made my way over to join in, hoping it was not a protest against English people or tourists. As I went over, I was initially pleased to see it was all longhaired women, wouldn’t mind getting in amongst them I thought. Then I realised that they where indeed longhaired, but women they were not. They were transvestites. What they where protesting against or for I do not have a clue, but I joined in anyway much to the amusement of the locals and press there. Great photo to follow…


Anyone translate the signs ?

We joined in the fans festival in Taksim, singing and drinking and getting sunburnt to death. Nervous of the events about to unfold, we where unsure as to the best thing to do about going the game. We had heard horror stories of there being NO BOOZE available by the ground, and so we decided to hang around and have a few beers before heading up the ground. We also decided to give the free bus service a wide berth and grab a cab to the ground. Two mistakes. We got in the cab and he was a loon in comparison to the other drivers we had seen, and that is saying something. He stopped off at the garage to fuel up and buy forty cigarettes, and then proceeded to smoke them all before we got out of the garage forecourt!

Some pictures from the Taksim gathering







We approached the ground and as it got closer, the nerves where building and anticipation was high. Following a short cut, we realise that the driver was on the wrong side of the ground, and the “one road in and out of the ground” was on the other side of the hill! He then proceeded to drive around some dirt tracks and make out like he knew what he was doing. Did he ! We spent half an hour driving round in circles less than half a mile from the ground, but with a big ravine blocking our path. Eventually the driver bit the bullet and went back onto the right road, but by this time it was chocker block with cars, bus’s coaches bikes and everything. As it was only an hour and a half to kick off, and the ground was only actually one mile away (or so we thought) we paid the fool and set off on foot. The idea caught on as the traffic never moved for ages. Before we knew it, some five thousands reds converged on a four mile treck up and down winding roads to get to the ground which was actually less than a mile away on the horizon.

By the time we got to the ground, totally knackered, everyone was trying to get in. At times it was little scary as some ten thousand people tried to squeeze past the barriers and gates to get into the North end. The security was lapse, and a simple tear was made about one quarter of an inch into the ticket. Mine already had one tear in it that was bigger! You could easily have passed the tickets back like we used to with the “saveaway’s” on the bus rides into town as kids. Taking the seats was not an option as it was rammed, so we stood at the top of the stairs and waited with baited breath.



The pre match show seemed to go on for a bit, but was well choreographed and the lads dressed in red marching round seemed appropriate some how. I looked around at the stadium; architecturally (is that a real word ?) it was breath taking. It was kind of dug out, so the level you entered the stadium at was the top of the end, and it went down to the track and pitch. The long sweeping stands on the side where lit up magnificently, and as I looked round I felt like I imagine Hugh Heffner does, I felt I was in paradise. A few songs where started, and swept round but it was really difficult to get a real good atmosphere going as there was no roof really, it was not closed in or nothing. I got the flag a nice spot on the few rows of seats that are cordoned off at the bottom and took my place by the lads for what I had thought was going to be a magnificent first half. How wrong can you be?

The game kicked off, and it seemed almost instant that they where awarded a free kick after Djimi’s lunge. What happened next was surreal. When Maldini (superbly by the way) volleyed the opening goal, there was almost a deafly silence. I could see the small pocket of Milan fans in the South End moving, but I could not hear any noise. It was like watching European games where an eastern block team scores in the Nou Camp or something, no noise. It makes you question what your eyes have just seen. It then sunk in that they had scored, and I remember saying to one of the lads “Oh no, they will just sit back and defend this till the bitter end” How wrong was I again!

Until I got home and watched the game again, I was mistakenly under the impression that we where totally over run in the first half. However in a fairly even first half hour, we had some good passages of play, highlighted when Garcia went forward and appealed for the handball. I thought we where back in it. As football can make you feel like you are on top of the world (see the last two weeks) it can also plunge the knife deep into your heart, and it did here. As we screamed and looked at one another for a penalty, Milan stormed up the field and scored again. I started to wonder, but I felt that the injustice of what had happened would come full circle and we would get back in to the game soon. I thought we would nick a goal and go in at half time on the up. Again, how wrong can you be?

On the stroke of half time (cliché!) with a sweeping move, class from start to finish, I thought I had seen Crespo (it would have to be him) finish expertly to seal our fate. Thankfully, this time being wrong was a good thing.

At half time, we where downtrodden. Bumped into loads I knew and the story was the same, anger at the manner of the score line, rage at the fact Kewell had gone off after 20 mins cus we where behind and he did not fancy it, and disbelief that this day that we all believed was to be our return to grace was going horribly and wickedly wrong.

I do not mind admitting that I had all but given up hope. I stared at the night sky and was almost reduced to tears after all the build up and hype, and then this. I then did something I have not done since I was in school and I said a prayer. I forgot about religion following the death of some close family members, so to pray was weird. It was surreal, I found myself hands clasped together, looking at the heavens offering to go to church, stop my bad ways, quit on the drink and drugs, in fact anything if he could just put things right tonight.

Then something magical happened, the stuff of legend, Liverpool legend. “We’re gonna win four three, we’re gonna win four three, we’re gonna win four three, FOUR THREE…”. The chant went round, and at first people nervously laughed, then as more joined in, people started to believe. Faces changed from anxious to determined, and so the fairytale began. An unbelievable stirring rendition of You’ll Never Walk Alone closely followed, and from then on, it seemed as though the 12th man would control the destiny of that magic night. The players must have got word of the noise; in fact they must have felt it. You could feel the noise.

When Riise crossed and Stevie leaped like a salmon, the place went mad. Where we where at the top of the stairs, the surge knocked a few people over, and unfortunately one never got back up. I looked down and the red paint on his hair looked like blood to me, so amidst the euphoria, passion and nerves, people panicked a little. I ran over to the police area to get them to get some help, but they where clueless and instead drew batons as I ran towards them, and ushered me away. It seemed to take an age to get this guy help, and his daughter was really upset, I tried to comfort her but it was useless. I remember seeing her later after we had won it and she said he was OK, so I was relieved.

When we scored the second I was starting to think my prayers where being answered, and it was testament to the heat and euphoria of the moment that I did not know who scored the goal until someone mentioned it the next day. When we got a penalty it was like I was dreaming, then to see it saved and then scored at the next attempt I was convinced someone upstairs was with me. Many words have been written about the game, and I don’t pretend to be a match summariser, all I can do is offer my thoughts and feelings. The rest of the game felt like it went on for an eternity, and it was angst and relief in equal measure. I remember thinking back to half time and the four three songs and thinking that someone knew something I never. Alas, that score line was not to be and it did (as you know) end up penalties, but not before the big guy upstairs came to answer my prayers.

Last three minutes of extra time and that Shevchenko header and volley that Jerzy saved. Now I have heard all kinds of things said, read all kinds of explanations and none of them are true. That sequence was simply divine intervention. My prayers answered and my promise to go to church every week about to be tested. The header save was good, and I can live with that being down to Jerzy, however the volley save simply beggars belief. The way that ball was sucked up straight to the heavens tells me that someone not of this earth made it happen.

The penalties, and “the Dudek” as the song recently released prophesises, will go down as legendary, and rightly so. Carra’s advice to Jerzy to remember Grobelaar was inspirational, and I cannot speak highly enough about JC’s contribution to last season and the Champions League win. Whilst the penalties where going on, a strange thing happened. I have an alternative viewpoint on it, but I will explain first.

When the first pen was skied, we where all jumping around, and somehow I caught the eye of a guy who was ten to fifteen rows in front and about twenty seats to the right of where we stood. He knowingly nodded at me, smiled and mouthed “Its ours lad, its ours lad”. Then he disappeared in the crowd. Didi slotted and then Jerzy saved their second penalty. As we jumped around again, the same guy caught my eye again and this time he nodded as he mouthed “its ours, its ours”, thing was he was stood over to our left this time. I did not think anything of it at the time. When Shevchenko had his penalty saved, and we jumped around like lunatics the guy was stood by us, and he was jumping with us, and hugging us and shouting, “I told you didn’t I, told you we would do it.” We got some photographs taken with and by the man, and then following the crazy scenes said we would meet up later in Taksim square.

The bus back to Taksim was strange, although everyone was overjoyed; the thought of a long arduous journey back to Taksim almost dampened people’s spirits. We started a few good songs on the back of the bus, and had a wail of a time, and when we got to Taksim it was magic. We went back to the hotel to put our stuff in and Jay and decided to call it a day so Dean and me headed up to Taksim for the victorious celebrations. It was great, and Vladimir Smicer was even bouncing around with us outside some Irish pub later on, but we did not see any other players. Flares where burning people’s clothes but no one seemed to care. It was awesome, and I will never forget it. Every time I think about it I smile from ear to ear.

The journey home was pretty uneventful, apart from seeing Aldo in the tent at the airport and playing football in the terminal building. With no voice left, and following just four hours sleep in three days, a seven hour delay and chaos in the airport meant we wearily made our way back to Manchester airport, and then home.

Totally magical, time of our lives and never to be forgotten.

We got the pictures developed, (I will post a few soon) and there is no sign of that guy from the ground on any of them. I reckon it was an angel, and a Liverpool supporting angel at that. How else could those events have unfolded otherwise?  Nice thought anyway……

More random pictures of the trip

http://www.liverpoolfc-newkit.co.uk/viewtopic.php?t=17611